Strays

Chapter 33

    Chapter Thirty-Three

The whole room seemed to dissolve into chaos.

Shouts of alarm and calls for help chased Michael into the bar, ringing in my ears like distant gunshots. Thomas staggered through the doorway behind him, his own clothes and skin streaked liberally with blood. The stench of it infused the air like perfume and the red staining my vision seemed to sharpen.

KILL...

I was only vaguely aware of Rhys surging off his stool and demanding to know what happened. Thomas offered a terse explanation, the words 'fight', 'new pack' and 'territory' only just managing to pierce the sound of blood rushing in my ears. My fingers tightened automatically, nails digging into fragile skin. A pulse thrummed beneath my touch like an errant butterfly with wings so easily plucked —

Mia's hands clawed uselessly at my wrist. "Michael," she managed to croak, her voice hoarse, "M-Michael—" But it wasn't until a hand grasped my arm and yanked me away from her forcefully that I realised she hadn't been calling for help — she'd been warning me.

For the first time since the door had burst open, it started to dawn on me exactly what position I'd been caught in. It was like I'd been doused with a bucket of icy cold water; the bloodlust drained from my system, the metallic flavour of fear lacing my tongue as I stared at Mia in horror. What have I done?

She was struggling to breathe, blood oozing from the thin grooves my nails had etched into her skin, and her eyes were wide with panic as she stared at Michael. "Michael, don't—"

He cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, ignoring her. His focus was reserved entirely for me; I could feel the weight of it on me like a physical force, the full span of his fury rolling off him in tangible waves. Panic clogged my throat, making my heart race and my palms sweat.

It was an accident... I tried to voice the words, to force them off the tip of my tongue. I didn't mean to hurt her...The lie tasted sour on my lips, dissolving before I could push it out. The fact that I even felt the need to lie, to explain myself, pissed me off and my anger started to outweigh my panic.

It was her own damn fault. I tried to stop her. She put herself in that position...

I tried to wrench my arm from his grasp but his fingers just tightened, his grip punishingly strong.

"Michael," Mia tried again. "It's not what you —"

"Shut up," he growled at her, his voice icier than I'd ever heard it. I might have been on the receiving end of his frigid temper more than a handful of times but if the flicker of alarm in her eyes was any indication, he'd never once spoken to Mia like that. Her voice faltered, a stunned expression crossing her face. "Go to Thomas —"

She bolted the second he gave the order with little more than a regretful glance in my direction. The fact that she didn't even try to stand up to him tipped my anger up another notch, making me bristle, and I almost wished I'd finished what I had started before Michael barged in but before my thoughts could take a nosedive in that direction, he was shoving me forward, propelling me toward the back stairwell.

"Move," he ground out when I tried to resist.

My eyes flickered in Theo's direction. He had moved into the middle of the bar, his face pale as he watched Rhys and Mia fuss over Thomas as he was lowered to the floor. One wrong move and I knew Theo would be on the floor next to him, strapped into a body bag. The thought made my stomach lurch, a low simmer fire of anger burning in my gut.